


Red Is the New Black

by Nightdog_Barks



Category: House M.D.
Genre: Crack, Gen, Halloween, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-10-29
Updated: 2007-10-29
Packaged: 2017-10-18 04:55:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/185258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nightdog_Barks/pseuds/Nightdog_Barks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wilson has his own idea of how to spend Halloween.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Red Is the New Black

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Trick and Treat](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/2935) by pwcorgigirl. 



> Directly inspired by [](http://pwcorgigirl.livejournal.com/profile)[**pwcorgigirl**](http://pwcorgigirl.livejournal.com/)'s wonderful [Trick and Treat](http://pwcorgigirl.livejournal.com/156228.html#cutid1) and a subsequent short conversation, this is a crack!ficlet. Or is it?

_**House Crack!ficlet: Red Is the New Black**_  
 **STATUS:** Posted to [](http://house-wilson.livejournal.com/profile)[**house_wilson**](http://house-wilson.livejournal.com/) on 10/29/07.  
 **TITLE:** Red Is the New Black  
 **AUTHOR:** [](http://nightdog-writes.livejournal.com/profile)[**nightdog_writes**](http://nightdog-writes.livejournal.com/)  
 **PAIRING:** House, Wilson  
 **RATING:** PG-13  
 **WARNINGS:** None.  
 **SPOILERS:** No.  
 **SUMMARY:** Wilson has his own idea of how to spend Halloween.  
 **DISCLAIMER:** Don't own 'em. Never will.  
 **AUTHOR NOTES:** Directly inspired by [](http://pwcorgigirl.livejournal.com/profile)[**pwcorgigirl**](http://pwcorgigirl.livejournal.com/) 's wonderful [Trick and Treat](http://pwcorgigirl.livejournal.com/156228.html#cutid1) and a subsequent short conversation, this is a crack!ficlet. Or is it?  
 **BETA:** A quick drive-through by my always-great First Readers.

 **Red Is the New Black**

  
House had to admit Wilson's costume was one of the best he had ever seen.

The black suit was perfectly tailored; cut in the style of the mid-nineteenth century, the loose-fitting frock coat was open, exposing a dark grey silk vest. The high collar of Wilson's white shirt was folded down, and a dark red cravat graced his neck. He even had a cape, a long, swirling affair of ebony clipped close to his throat with a silver pin.

He'd done something to his hair, too -- it fell in tousled locks across his forehead. His cheeks were flushed crimson from the cold, the high arches of the zygomatic bones accented.

"Really getting into the holiday spirit, I see," House said. He stepped aside to allow Wilson to step inside.

"You might say that," and House stared at Wilson's back. Even his _voice_ sounded different -- deeper, with a trace of an accent. Hungarian? Had Wilson been spending time with relatives from the Old Country? House shook his head and reached for the stack of DVDs he'd picked out for tonight -- he planned to run a marathon of classics, so that everytime a pack of greedy rugrats appeared at the door there'd be a scary movie on. He glanced at two of the plastic covers -- should he start with _Frankenstein_ or _The Rocky Horror Picture Show_?

"Did you bring the candy?" he asked. "Christ, Wilson, don't tell me you forgot the candy!" He looked up. Wilson was just standing there, a faintly amused expression on his face.

"No candy," he said. "I wanted to take care of some other business first -- something I've been meaning to do for a long time now."

House frowned. The firelight was casting odd shadows in the apartment, and suddenly the dark corners looked a whole lot _darker._

"What are you talking about?"

Wilson made a _tsk-tsk_ sound and started forward, and House, even though this was his living room, in his apartment, with his Wilson, found himself backing up.

"Do you remember what you called me once, House? An _emotional vampire_ , feeding on other people's neediness."

He smiled, and while it certainly bore some resemblance to _Wilson's_ smile, it was wider, and _toothier_ , and nobody could tell House those were _human_ canines.

"At least you got _part_ of that description right."

House stopped backing up -- he had to, his knees had suddenly hit the edge of the sofa.

"Wilson," he said. "What the hell?"

Wilson's eyes were glittering, shining gold in the reflected firelight the way no human eyes should. His lips pulled back as his mouth opened, and no, those _definitely_ weren't human canines.

A rush of adrenaline fueled by atavistic fear caused House to react at last to the threat. He brought his cane up, but he was far too late -- Wilson batted it aside as easily as a man might brush aside a falling feather.

"No," he whispered, but Wilson simply gave him a tender look as he pushed him gently back onto the sofa.

The last thing House remembered was that black, black cape enveloping him.

* * *

"House? C'mon, House, are you okay?"

House opened his eyes slowly.

He was on his back on the sofa, a damp, cool washcloth pressed to his forehead. Wilson was hovering, bending over him with concern.

"Wha?" House croaked. His mouth seemed to taste of ashes.

Wilson sighed with relief. "I don't know 'wha,'" he said dryly. "You didn't answer the door when I knocked, had to use my key to get in. You were like this, except without the washcloth." He stretched a little, and rubbed at the back of his neck. "You felt feverish. Are you getting a cold?"

"No," House mumbled. "At least ... I don't think so." He squinted, looking more closely at Wilson.

Wilson's costume was adequate -- in that dark suit and thin cloak, he looked something like a seedy undertaker. The memory of something, a wisp of grey, fluttered at the edges of his mind and then slipped away.

"Must've fallen asleep," he grunted. "Dreamed, maybe."

Wilson's thick brows furrowed. "Must have been a doozy, for you to sleep through my knocking. Remember anything about it?"

"Nope. Don't even remember if there were any hot babes in it."

Wilson looked vaguely relieved. "Well, at least it wasn't a nightmare," he said. "C'mon -- you ready for the kids? Got the candy right here." He hefted a plastic Walgreen's bag.

House huffed out a breath and sat up. He felt woozy for just a moment, and lifted a hand to his head. He rubbed at his eyes, then let his fingers trail down his jaw. Something tiny and granular rolled under his thumb, and he looked down.

A bit of dried blood, as small and irregularly shaped as a grain of sand.

Then Wilson's thumb was there, brushing gently at his throat.

"Little nick there," he murmured. "Must've got it when you shaved the other day."

The doorbell rang. From outside, the voices of a gaggle of children piped high in a demanding chorus.

"They're here," Wilson said. "Remember, House -- _trick or treat!"_

~ the end


End file.
